This corner of the planet , it is never ‘a cloud ‘. It is “the cloud “.
No cirrus wisps of cottony innocence here . Here clouds come thick and fast , and dark . Ominous and numerous . Cumulonimbus . Piling one on top of the other . Heralded by winds , gusts and dust storms . There is a pale grey border , where one dark blue grey monster meets the other , or rather , lies on top of the other . In enormous piles of darkness , shutting off sunlight and meaning every inch of business .
They begin with an innocuous pitter patter and then the sharp stinging pellets of raindrops lash you and you run for cover . Once , i drove my scooter in rain and got to experience , first hand , the meaning of the phrase “Blinding rain ” . There was no way one could keep one’s eyes open when one is being bombarded with sharp rain drops .
No comments:
Post a Comment